Fruit

ByRobert FrancisJuly 29, 1985

If poems ever dropped into my hand, If there was ever any time In any land When I had but to shake the bough For the ripe fruit to fall, It is not so now. Today the fruit I want is fruit I pick. I have to climb, I have to reach, I have to be both slow and quick For each particular blue plum Or golden peach.